The Weakness
by Spykester
Summary: "I should have known it would all end in tears" - Harry makes a drastic decision in the wake of a personal tragedy.


The Weakness

**Disclaimer: **Characters, place names etc property of J.K. Rowling. Story by me. Harassment by the FBI. 

**Author's Note: **This is quickie fic, so I'm sorry if it really lacks a lot of sense. I'm kind of on an angst trip at the moment too. You have been warned. 

**Rating: R **– for mentions of slash of the m/m variety and character death. Harry's POV. 

_I should have known it would all end in tears_

But sentimentality has always been my weakness. You'd think by now I'd be used to disappointment and being let down but like I said it's my weakness and probably always will be so. 

And maybe I don't want to change it. Despite what I am feeling now. 

I hate him, hate him so much my heart burns. And I love him so much that it also bleeds. How can this be? How can anything hurt like this? 

See, this isn't childish insults and infantile ambushes any more. Its kid games no longer my friends. 

This is life and death. Love and hatred. Desire and lust. Take your pick. 

"So," He sneers, lips that have always been ever so slightly upturned smirking at me. It's a facial expression he's so fond of and I could never understand why because it renders him ugly. When he's not sneering or smirking he's actually quite...i want to say beautiful but find that it is too high a compliment for one so ugly on the inside. 

"So what?" I snarl back. Hmm, maybe we haven't exhausted those childish insults yet. 

"You have come to get me then? The valiant little Gryffindor come to slay the _evil_ Slytherin? Oh how painfully dramatic! Excuse me while I yawn now." 

I almost laugh. He actually can be rather funny, shame he always puts it to such unkind use. It's also obvious that he does not believe that I am really prepared to go through with it. I don't blame him, my feelings too often cloud my judgement, it's why he isn't dead already. 

But he killed someone close to my heart, and whatever carnal lusts we have engaged in together, I can't let it slide in the belief that he could ever be redeemed. I should never have let him live this long in the first place. Deluding myself that perhaps...somewhere deep down in that ice cube of a heart that he possesses that maybe he loved me. 

He doesn't and I'm a fool for thinking that for a second. 

"I didn't come here for jokes," I growl acidly. "I came here to finish this." 

He raises an elegant eyebrow at my blunt pronunciation of his impending fate and his smirk fades just a little. I have far more experience of duelling than he has ever had. He knows I can beat him. 

I can almost smell his increasing fear. 

To be honest, I rather like it, but the time for such indulgences is long past. 

I whip out my wand and he does the same. We never did follow the rules of duelling, we don't bow, merely hold our weapon up in front of ourselves and step closer to one another until eventually we can feel the heat emanating from our bodies. 

"Well then," He hisses in a deathly whisper. "Go ahead. Finish it." Before he can blink I yell a curse but too my terrific annoyance it's not the one I intended. 

It wasn't the Killing Curse. It has done no more damage than merely throw him across the room. He laughs in mockery of my weakness. 

"You can't, can you?" He crows. "You can't kill me Potter." 

"Oh yes I can. And believe me Malfoy I _will_." 

"We'll see." 

He can goad me all he wants, but still I shall stand fast. After all, he does know of the other weapon I have concealed in my robes. A part of me feels guilty for hiding a weapon from him, which I fully intend to surprise him with if I have to. It seems a bit of a dirty trick. 

But then I remind myself he probably has one of his own hidden in his robes. 

So we battle and as we let curses fly, mostly missing their targets but occasionally scoring a hit images flash before my eyes and judging from the horrible look on his face the same is happening to him. Like me it utterly disgust him. 

Kissing…sucking. Back covered in a vivid sheen of sweat arching in pleasure. Mind in a beautiful elsewhere that only such sexual completion can bring. 

I can't stand it. 

We seem to have partially forgotten about magic as we have begun to pummel each other with our fists. It shows the depths in which our hatred has sliced into our hearts, as usually Malfoy would never deign to engage in something as common and unbecoming as brawling. 

It was inevitable that we would lose our wands. Neither of us are particularly good physical fighters having spent most of our lives trying to avoid such confrontations (for different reasons of course). 

Finally his hands grip my neck and I know it's time. 

Time to end it just like I promised him I would. 

I reach into the long pocket of my robe and weakly withdraw the item I had hidden there. I backhand him away and clutch the long tapered knife defiantly, eyes blazing. 

It's an ornate object, it's handle carved into the shape of two inter-twining snakes. It's usually the kind of thing used for animal sacrifices. A horrible weapon to be sure but I'm putting it to fitting use. 

His eyes widen, and I realise despite what I had assumed he has no such weapon. 

This has to be done though, fair or not. 

I lunge at him and he ducks out of the way, grabs a chair and chucks it at me, striking me rather painfully across the head. I fall back dazed and he lunges at me this time. 

A fatal mistake. For him of course. 

I lazily raise the knife and let him fall on it. Impaled on the sword so to speak. 

His eyes widen and he stares down at me in horror. I get up and pull him up with me. I jerk the knife back out of his body, amazed at how easily it had slid into it. 

It is covered in blood and some stray pieces of flesh are caught in its edge. 

He stands firm, if almost doubled over in awful pain, and tries to say something but instead merely burbles blood. It is then that he finally realises this is the end, I have finished it. 

He loses. 

I keep my promise. 

Victory has never tasted this sour. 

I retrieve my wand and debate whether or not to cast the Killing Curse and spare him his misery. But then I recall what it was that drove me here and instead I turn away and leave. 

Either way, I got it done. 

**~ Finis. **


End file.
